Things 252-263: College

It's been eight years since I graduated college. I have to admit that I didn't really love college. Sure, there were some high points (meeting my future husband, a few really great friends, London), but the low points sort of overshadowed everything else (losing yer toes will do that).

But more than the whole illness thing, I never really found my clique in college. There were the sorority/fraternity types (loathed them, although I did marry one), the Midwestern hicks (bigots might be a better description), and the hipsters (pretty much the entire j-school). Although most of my friends probably fell into the latter group, I never really fit in there. The judging, the cooler-than-thou attitude, the obsession with Cat Power. No thanks.

Anyway, given this sort of "meh" feeling about college in general, it's a bit of a head-scratcher that I've saved so much stuff from my college years—stuff I really don't need and will never use again, such as:

From 365 things

These class notes and graded blue books (do college students even use these anymore?). I have no idea why I saved these. I suppose I thought I could look back at the notes in my career. But let's face it: The journalism industry has changed quite a bit in the past eight years, and I seriously doubt any of the brilliant insights within will ever help me out. As for the blue books, I assume I held on to these because I aced some really hard final, which meant something to me when I was 23. Now? Eh.

From 365 things

From 365 things

And these relics from one of my internships. Yes, I learned a lot from my days at Pioneer Press, and the experience likely helped me land my first job. But a denim hat and unflattering photo of me in front of a ginormous, ancient computer probably aren't going to help out my career anytime soon.

I'm sure I have tons of other useless keepsakes from college, some I can easily pitch, other burrowed deep in my brain that I'll never be able to shake. And maybe that's not all bad.

Si Oui

August and early September are providing quite a few baby getaways for me and Chris. We started the month out in Galena, and this weekend Chris' parents are coming in town and have requested the pleasure of babysitting Maya nearly round-the-clock for three days.

In addition, a few weeks ago Chris and I took advantage of some free babysitting (thanks sis!) and went out with another couple for some roller derby and dinner. This is a big deal for us. I could probably count on one hand the number of times we've gone out for a nice dinner, sans baby, in the past two years.

The restaurant was Mexique, a French-Mexican spot. The food was incredible, as was the wine—which I consumed after having two beers at derby. Needless to say, a trip to the bathroom was in order, and I had my camera ready:

Mexique Chicago, IL

From Peed to Meet You

Potty mouth, continued

We have another mispronunciation to add to Maya's vocabulary.

When asked: "Maya, what city do you live in?"
Her response: "Fish Taco."

Time out

Let's just pretend the last three weeks didn't happen. Here I am, blogging away, keeping to my schedule. Wee!!

Since my last post (which was mere days ago, right?), Chris and I went to Galena for a little getaway. It was the first time in Maya's nearly two-year history that we've both spent more than 12 hours away from her. And I have to admit that it. was. awesome.

The most amazing part was breakfast Saturday morning. We ate at a leisurely pace, never had to pick up food or utensils thrown on the floor, and even had time to read the paper. All the while, these lovely people kept coming to our table, refilling our coffee and water.

Other highlights include the drive there and back, which didn't contain screaming, crying or shoe throwing, shopping at places featuring breakable objects, and the excessive consumption of alcohol with no fear of being awoken the next day at 6 am by a cranky, poopy toddler.

I cannot express how long overdue this weekend was. If you had told me in the September 2009 that it would be almost two years until Chris and I spent more than a few hours baby-free, I probably wouldn't have believed you. Because really, no two sane adults should ever go that long without a little break.

No dumping

Three years ago, Chris, Rosie and I went camping in eastern Kentucky. We did "primitive" camping, meaning there aren't any campgrounds, RV hook ups, running water, etc. Instead, there's a parking lot and a trail. You hike out to a good-looking spot, clear out some space, and set up camp. We loved it, and Rosie was in doggie heaven.

As you might expect with primitive camping, there aren't really any bathrooms. Just a latrine near the parking lot (which was a 10-minute hike from the campsite.) So, most bathroom trips involved a flashlight and a tree.

Still, this latrine was one of the best I've ever visited. Not for the toilet, but for the decor:

Daniel Boone National Forest Pine Ridge, KY

From Peed to Meet You

Best sign ever. Here's a closer look:

Daniel Boone National Forest Pine Ridge, KY

From Peed to Meet You

Don't you want this sign in your bathroom, too?

Potty mouth

In a little less than two months, Maya will be two. On one hand, I can't believe she's so big already. On the other, I feel like she's already been two for months. She's running and talking and becoming opinionated. We can almost have little conversations with her. It's pretty incredible.

She's at the age, though, that sometimes only Chris and I know what she's saying or what she means. "Choo choo," for example, means she wants to watch Thomas the Engine. "Gaga" means she wants to listen to music (the kid likes Lady Gaga. I have no idea how that happened). And "beer" is what she calls anything adults drink, be it coffee, tea, wine, whatever. To her, it's all "beer" (we are awesome parents).

And then there are the even more troublesome mispronunciations, especially these three: Spoon, which she pronounces "poon"; Grape, which she pronounces "rape"; and fork, which she pronounces as, well... I assume you can figure that one out.

I know this will pass. But until then, please accept my apologies for my foul-mouthed little lady. She can't help it. She takes after her mother. And her father.

Things 248-251

I keep finding clothes that I no longer wear, but hold on to for silly reasons.

From 365 things

For example, the jeans above used to be my skinny pants. I gained a bit of weight when I lived in Syracuse, and these jeans got too tight. When I moved to Chicago and started walking everywhere, they finally fit again.

I remember the first time I was able to fit into them again. I wore them out to a club when Katie was in town visiting. They were my "skinny" jeans. I rejoiced.

Then, I started getting serious about getting back on track. I started running, eating better, trained for a triathlon, etc. And now these jeans are too big. They're also all frayed at the bottom and getting washed out. And when it comes to fat pants, I have other jeans that are in better shape. So it's time to get rid of the skinny fat pants.

The white shirt above is one I'll always remember wearing to the Taste of Randolph in 2002. I was home for the summer and Chris and I had just started dating. He came up to visit and we went to the festival with Laura and Eric (he was working on Randolph at the time.) Laura took a cute picture of me and Chris, and I brought it with me to London that fall, looking at it all the time because I missed Chris so much.

A few years later, I wore that shirt to the 3rd of July fireworks. Chris and I rode our bikes downtown, and it had just rained. I got mud splatters all over the back of the shirt. After the fireworks, we biked home, and the city shut down part of Lake Shore Drive, so we got to ride down Lake Shore at night, and it was beautiful.

I was never able to get the mud splatters out of the back of the shirt. So I never wore it again. I've saved it, though, for the past few years, solely for sentimental reasons. But I suppose I don't need the shirt. I already got Chris. And I still have the pic:

From 365 things

Peed to Meet You

Let's just get something out of the way: I'm weird.

I have a weird sense of humor. I laugh at strange times. You know Dr. Hibbert? That's me.

So it's with that caveat that I introduce my latest project — one I've been planning for years, and I personally think is funny. You, on the other hand, might just think I'm weird.

The plan started nine years ago when I was about to leave for a semester in London. I knew that I'd do a lot of traveling during my three months there, and I wanted to be able to document all the places I'd been. (This was before the days of Facebook and FourSquare).

But simply taking pictures of buildings and landscapes was beyond cliche. Plus, a picture of, say, a cathedral, doesn't mean anything. Sure, the architecture is beautiful and the stained glass is exquisite. But that's doesn't express how well you got to know a place. I wanted to know everything about the places I visited — the interior and exterior, the blend of old world charm and modern conveniences, the beauty captured by tourists' cameras, and the reality those tourists experienced.

In other words, I wanted to document the bathrooms. Or more specifically, the toilets.

You see, these structures from centuries past had to be retrofitted to accommodate modern toilets. You walk out of the naturally lit beauty of a sanctuary, barely touched in 500 years, and into fluorescent-lit bathrooms with automatic-flush toilets. You have to love the contradiction.

Or so I thought.

In reality, many old world toilets haven't seen much updating. Some are beautifully decorated and provide a seamless transition. Some are nothing more than a hole in the ground. Many don't have toilet paper.

So the project evolved. And now the plan is this: Document my travels by toilet, then frame the pictures, along with their locations, and display them in our bathroom. It's a sort of traveling "George Washington Slept Here" idea, except I'm George Washington, and I, hopefully, haven't been sleeping on the toilet.

So here's the first entry, taken in Tangier, Morocco, in 2006, on my honeymoon:

Tangier, Morocco, September 2006

Just check out that tiling. Gorgeous, huh? And not one, but THREE, rolls of toilet paper.

So there you have my newest project. It's weird, yes. But at least I'm amused.

And if you've see me walking into a bathroom with a camera, now you know why.

Nerd alert

Maya's really into books. So much so, that she brings them to bed with her every night, and often reads (or pretends to read) to her stuffed animals. She's also really into trains (or "choo-choos") and buses.

And in case it weren't already obvious that she'd follow in her parents' nerdy footsteps, she's now really into glasses, too.

While on vacation a few weeks ago, Maya got a new pair of sunglasses. For whatever reason, she popped the lenses out and has been obsessed with just wearing the frames.

Behold, my little poindexter:

From ReporterStone

From ReporterStone

From ReporterStone

Catching up

Well hello there.

It's been a while. I've been busy, as always. Traveling a ton. Nothing new there. I've also been slowly picking away at this 365 project. Sorting through things, getting rid of stuff, taking pictures. Doing everything involved in the project, except blogging.

And you know what? I really need to blog. Not just to keep up with this project or track my progress, but to get shit out there. I need to write and share and get advice on everything from music recommendations to parenting help to recipe ideas.

Figuring out where to start up again is the hardest part. Do I attempt to recap all the milestones of the past few months? Just pick up again like I never stopped?

In my job, I sometimes help companies structure a blogging strategy. So I suppose I should know how to do this. If I were doing this for a client, I'd tell them to start with a schedule. You don't have to stick with the schedule forever, or even in the short term, but a regular schedule will help you get up and running.

Personally, I'll let alliteration guide my schedule:

Maya Mondays
Toilet Tuesdays (I'll explain more later)
Things Thursdays
Free-for-all Fridays

So there. Let's see how it goes.